Poem about/for Michael

We talk a lot. Endless messages, it's hot.
Sometimes I ask for pictures of your aching cock.

Hard and eager for my waiting mouth.
Easy on my words, and yours, my hand moves south.

And it's some constant electric fantasy.
Thinking about you and me.
And the things you do to me.
And the way you fuck me,
Hold my neck and squeeze,
And breath,
And I plead,

For an eager taste of flesh.
I ache and squirm under the duress.
Of the conversation.

I wait, you wait. A ticking day
It's hours, until I can come to play.

We talk about what you want and like,
The kinks that make my heart rate spike.

About us fucking, rutting. Stimulation.
Im here in my anticipation.
My breath is short in exhalations.
A quick climactic confiscation.
A self sub optimal recreation.

Thinking about you and me
And the things you do to me
The way you fuck me
Not long now